


Morning Came Twice

by RuminantMonk



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 21:23:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3396842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RuminantMonk/pseuds/RuminantMonk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two different mornings, two sublime views.  Korra and Asami try to fill the gaps of the three years they spent apart.  One moment leading up to their Spirit World trip and another soon after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Storm

After the fight, there is very little speaking.  The exhaustion is collective and palpable and once Kuvira is taken away in shackles and her remaining forces withdrawn a good distance away from Republic City, Korra, along with her friends and family, retreat to Air Temple Island.

A handful of acolytes help put together a quick meal for the recovering party. Though fatigue has overtaken any semblance of an appetite and she’d truthfully rather be alone, Korra accepts.  Everyone is seated around the family table in the dining room and conversation is kept to a minimum as they eat. 

Mako sits to her left and Korra notes that he's managing to make quick work of his food even with just one good arm.  To Korra’s right, Asami is picking disinterestedly at the small pile of vegetables on her plate. There's a faraway look on her face, her green eyes unreadable and fixed on some unseeable point in space.  As she watches Asami, Korra remembers that a dedicated task force is still out there, working through the rubble downtown in search of any survivors they might have missed during the initial blast.  They’re also recovering bodies, or at least what's left of them.  

Asami doesn’t notice herself being watched, so Korra sets down her chopsticks down and lowers her hand under table and discreetly places it over Asami’s, squeezing just slightly.  She feels Asami squeeze back, then lace their fingers together.  Finally, Asami looks up and their eyes meet.  She's wearing the tiniest of smiles.

Korra leans over, intending to ask how she’s doing when Mako yelps loudly beside her and she drops Asami’s hand in surprise.

“Ow, Bolin, watch it!”

Mako has pulled his bandaged arm to his chest, a wince visible on his face.

“Ah, sorry,” Bolin says, sheepish.  He’s holding the teapot that had earlier been placed at the center of the table.  He must have brushed Mako’s arm while reaching for it.

Korra looks over to Mako and feels a twinge of guilt, thinking of the ugly red and raw patches of burned skin that lay hidden beneath the gauze.  After everyone’s finished and the plates have been cleared, she insists on treating him to a healing session.  It takes a few hours and several bowls of water, but Korra manages to minimize the worst of the burns.  She apologizes, though, when she tells him she can’t prevent the injuries from scarring.

It’s nearly midnight by the time Korra retires to her room.  Pema has kept it the way it was when she'd left three years ago, which is a little comfort.  Tonight, she’s sharing her room with Asami. The number of unexpected guests at the island is high and people are doubling up.  Fortunately, Korra is so physically sapped that she doesn’t have the energy required to feel nervous or awkward about these sleeping arrangements.  

She does, however, have the energy to convince Asami to take the single bed, offering instead to sleep on a mat on the floor.  Asami doesn’t let her win the argument so easily and it isn’t until Korra insists she’ll be more than comfortable sleeping against a very warm, very furry Naga that she finally relents.

Bones tired and body aching, Korra settles down on the floor with her head nestled against Naga's belly.  Across the room, she hears the soft shuffling of blankets as Asami climbs into bed.  It’s only a matter of minutes before the darkness pulls her in. 

 

\--

 

It’s Naga’s whine that wakes her.  Heavy-lidded from deep slumber, Korra squints and makes out a figure moving about near the bed.   Moonlight streams in through the window, silver glow tracing the lines of Asami’s silhouette.  

The sound of rustling fabric – Asami must be changing clothes. 

“Asami?”

“Hey.  Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Korra sits up.  “What’s up?”

“I can’t sleep.” 

Asami is buttoning up her jacket.  Is she going somewhere?

“Do you want to talk?”

“Not really.”

“Oh.  Okay.”  Korra wants to push harder, but decides to leave Asami to her thoughts, if that’s what she wants.

Asami walks over and sits down at the foot of the bed.  Moonlight washes over her profile, catching on the angles of her cheekbones.  The paleness of her skin is set aglow to ethereal effect.  Korra can’t help but stare at Asami’s quiet beauty; moments like this, it’s hypnotic.

“Would you come somewhere with me?”

Though her body is begging for sleep, there’s only one answer Korra can give.

“Of course.  Whatever you want.”

She pulls on her boots and throws a coat over her pajamas before following Asami out the door.  They walk into the cool night in silence until they reach a motorcycle parked near the dock. Asami tells her that she’d left it here during her last visit, having only brought it because she’d promised Ikki a ride around the island (much to Tenzin’s chagrin). 

When Asami takes the single helmet dangling from the handlebar and sets it down on the ground, Korra is tempted to comment on this unusual show of recklessness.  But there’s something different about tonight, something about this particular moment that seems to grant permission to follow whatever path impulse chooses to cut.  Maybe it’s fallout from the fight.  Danger colored by thrill, rather than fear.  

That and this is a side to Asami that she rarely gets to witness.  And she really wants to see where it'll take them. 

Asami pulls on leather gloves and climbs on first.  As soon as Korra’s arms are wrapped around her waist, they’re off.   

 

\--

 

Downtown Republic City is a mess.  Asami expertly maneuvers the bike around broken slabs of concrete, piles of scattered clay tiles, alarmingly large shards of glass, and thick, twisted trunks of newly sprouted spirit vine.  

The wind whips Asami’s hair in her face, but Korra doesn’t mind.  If anything, it’s a comforting sensation.  Black, glossy strands dancing wild to speeds dictated by Asami as she urges the bike to go fast, faster.

Soon, they’re crossing the bridge that leads out to the mountains, the city behind them shrinking smaller with every passing minute.   Korra cranes her head to watch – the spirit portal is but a single golden thread that disappears up into the clouds.

As they ride out farther, the multi-lane street narrows to a single asphalt road with rows of trees flanking either side.  The night air smells different out here: cold and fresh, crisp and sharp.  A stark contrast from the distinctly urban scents of Republic City.  

Korra’s caught her second wind: the speed and the chill have beaten away her earlier drowsiness.  Now, she's more aware than ever of the way her body is pressed against Asami.  She can’t remember the last time they were physically close like this.  It might even be the first time.  Closing her eyes, she turns her head and leans closer, pressing her cheek into the center of Asami’s back.  She thinks she feels Asami's breath hitch, but thinks nothing of it.  The bike had just taken a particularly sharp turn.

By the time they’re spiraling up and around a mountain, she’s lost track of how much time has passed, how many miles they’ve traveled.  They climb higher and higher, winding through shadowy trees along a rough dirt road.

Finally, the bike pulls forward out of the thicket and Asami brings it to a halt.  Korra sees that they’ve arrived at a lookout point near the top of the mountain.  Asami disembarks and helps Korra down before stepping out towards the edge of the rocky precipice.  Korra follows.  Before she even has the chance to appreciate the breathtaking view that stretches out before them, Asami directs her gaze to a single point in the distance where a group of heavy clouds are gathered over a lake.

Korra is about to ask what she’s supposed to be looking at until she’s silenced by a series of colorful lightning bolts forking out from the clouds.  Blue and red veins of light strike back and forth, one after the other, streaks overlapping in quick succession.  Then a golden burst followed by a lick of brilliant green.  Each flash lights up the underbellies of heavy grey clouds, makes them pulse full with color.  The lightning gains momentum, striking faster and faster in a brilliant tempest roiling yellow, green, blue, and red without cease.  

They remind her of festival fireworks, but cosmic.  Spontaneous.  Haunting, rather than celebratory. 

Asami watches the scene intently, her arms crossed over her chest.  “I was wondering if it would look different,” Korra hears her murmur to herself.

“What is it?  I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“I’m still not totally sure,” Asami says.  “But it’s a neverending lightning storm.  It started three years ago and hasn’t stopped since.”

“Wow, really?”

Asami nods.  “I got wind of it right around the time the northern and southern spirit portals were re-opened.  The local fishermen saw it first.  See over there where the lake meets the river?” 

“Yeah.”

“The storm’s restricted to just that area where water from the river flows in.  It might have to do with the mountains surrounding the area and the mixed temperatures of the water …”  Asami’s eyebrows furrow in thought.  “Meteorological factors definitely explain some things, but other things, like those colors?  There’s no lightning in this world that looks like that.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty crazy looking,” Korra says.

“And there’s no thunder.  It’s completely silent,” Asami says.  “Also, up until now, the lightning was either red or blue.  The yellow and green varieties are totally new to me.”

“So you think the new spirit portal has something to do with it now?”

“It must, right?” Asami asks.  “I mean, they match up to the individual colors of the spirit portals.  It’s why I wanted to come here … I sort of had a hunch.  It’s possible that the ‘lightning’ isn’t even electricity – it could be spirit energy.  Wasn’t there something like this in the Southern Pole?”

Korra thinks back to before the portals had been opened.  It feels like a lifetime ago.  “You’re right.  The Everstorm.  But that disappeared once I opened the portal …”

“Right, The Everstorm.  That makes the connection even more obvious, right?  Anyway, Varrick, Su, and I were planning on conducting a study to observe and measure the storm.  We were going try channeling the lightning through metal rods, but couldn’t quite work out the logistics of how to ground the rods away from the water.” 

Asami hugs herself, shuddering from the cold.

“Then the project got sort of lost once the whole mess with Kuvira and the Earth Empire gained momentum.” 

She pauses.

“I guess you could prioritize it now, though?” Korra asks.

Asami nods.  “Yeah.  It’s good timing, now that we have these new changes to consider.  It makes things easier now that its connection to spirit portals is more clear this time around ...  I just wonder, do you think it could even be a spirit?  Maybe even more than one?  Even if it isn’t an actual spirit, the energy could still be sentient to some degree …”

Korra smiles at her.  It’s a bit of a treat to watch Asami parse out her thoughts in real time.  

When she notices Korra’s gaze, she fidgets and laughs self-consciously.  “Sorry, I’m talking too much.”

Korra shakes her head.  “No, not at all.  I’m happy to listen.  I’m glad you brought me here to see this.  It’s really beautiful.”

“It is, isn’t it?  It looks more complete now, somehow. “  She sighs.  “It’ll be nice to focus attention on smaller projects like this now that things are calmer.  Though I guess Future Industries Tower being totaled is another thing I have to deal with … ”

Asami’s apprehension is one she can share; rebuilding Republic City will be a monumental task that will probably take years longer than the post-Vaatu recovery.  She isn’t sure what words of comfort she can offer and each passing second of silence is felt.

Asami bites her lip.  “Maybe it’s better this way.  Starting fresh from the ground up sounds like something I can manage.  Razing things down might be easier than trying to pick up the pieces again.”

Korra can hear her breath catch on those last few words, voice trembling softly.  Asami turns her face just out of Korra’s sight.

“You know, I can handle change.  I can adapt to whatever life throws my way.”  Her voice is just a hair above a whisper.  “I’ve been doing it my whole life.  But sometimes things happen so fast, all at once … I just don’t have the time to dam up every little thing I’ve lost.”

And there it is, the terrible thing no one’s been able to mention.  Even Asami herself can’t say it, can only bring herself to allude to it.  It’s too fresh, too soon. 

She’s crying now.  Her back is fully turned away from her, but Korra can hear it.  It is a horrible, delicate sound, like a small bird caught between thorny branches, tiny wings fluttering helplessly.   

It’s tenderness she wants to offer, but words have run dry, so instead, Korra steps closer and tentatively loops her arms around Asami, locking her in a soft embrace from behind.

They stand like that for a while and Korra can hear Asami’s breathing return to normal.  Asami lets out a short laugh.

“I’m so busy.  All of the time.  It helps me to not think about things.  But the few moments that I’m not, when there’s nothing left to do … everything comes flooding in and the quiet is just too much to take.”

Her voice breaks again, barely perceptible.  Korra holds her tighter, buries her face in her hair, breathes the scent in. 

“I’m sorry,” she tells her.  “But is this okay now?”  She means the quiet of this moment, the two of them here like this.  She means her, herself here like this, with her.  Is it enough, does it help, she wants to know, to stay with her like this.

Asami turns around to face her, still caught in her embrace.  The green of her eyes is bright even through the dark, gleaming just slightly from recently shed tears.

She nods slowly.  “I’ve been wanting to show you the storm ever since I first saw it.”

“I’m glad I’m seeing it now.”

The familiar tension settles between them again, filling the narrow space between their bodies.  Asami’s face is so close that Korra can make out the deep black of her pupils ringed bright with emerald. 

“I missed you,” Asami breathes.

Korra wants to apologize, wants to say sorry for being gone, wants to tell her that when she’d left Republic City, she didn’t imagine it would be years before she would see her again.  But ‘sorry’ doesn’t seem right.  Doesn’t feel like the right sentiment to express, especially now that she can feel and hear Asami’s every breath.  Instead, she offers a simple truth.

“I thought about you a lot.”  

Surprise flickers in her green eyes.  She almost misses it.

“That’s … really?”

Korra can’t help herself.  She touches Asami’s cheek, cups it.  Her skin is warm, soft.  She runs her thumb gently over the slope of her cheekbone.

“Yeah.”

When Asami leans into her touch, Korra wants nothing more than to kiss her, to show her _“yes”_ without using words.  It would be so much easier that way.  But Korra can sense a woundedness in her, has heard as much from the tremor in her voice.  There’s something that’s been rising to the surface the whole night, a certain kind of fragility that threatens to break and overflow.  As difficult as it is, she quashes this impulse.  For her, she can be patient.

Then something changes.  Pink and blue lightning flash dangerously close to where they stand, leaving a warm purple glow in their wake.  The soft light plays across Asami’s face, illuminating her features in a wash of lavender. 

Asami leans forward, closing the distance between them.  It’s a kiss sweet and electric, and she thinks she can hear Asami emit a tiny sigh.  A sublime little sound.

Korra feels arms sling over her shoulders, hands playing at the short strands of her hair.  But before long, a sliver of concern weaves itself through the warm haze and pulls Korra back down to earth.  She wants to do this the right way, wants to be sure that Asami is sure.  Doesn’t want this moment to subsist on the kind of hastiness that is often borne from vulnerability.  She pulls away as gently as she can.

Asami bites her lip and her open face carries an expression of uncertainty.  She looks away, embarrassed, and attempts to pry herself loose from Korra’s hold.  

Luckily, Korra has the good sense to stop her.   

“I just want to make sure … Asami, are you –“

“Please don’t ask if I’m okay,” she says softly.

A small part of her wants to point out that it’s a question Asami often poses her.

“I want to know that you’re sure about this,” Korra starts.  “Not that I don’t trust your judgment, but it’s just … Are you sure?  If this isn’t a good time …”  She trails off.  Each consecutive word uttered from her mouth comes out sounding more awkward than the last.

“I’ve been sure for a while now,” Asami says.  “And nothing that happened today is going to change that, if that’s what you’re thinking.” 

Asami lifts her chin and looks her square in the eye.  “The only thing I wasn’t sure of was whether you’d even want the same thing.”

Korra has never quite figured out how Asami can so easily put words to her thoughts.  How she manages to turn questions into statements ( _because she’s asking, isn’t she?_ ).  For her, it’s the opposite.  Always stumbling and disjointed, the act of funneling feelings through sentences is a constant struggle.  Even now she’s failing, even when her feelings have never been more steady, sure, and unwavering.

Korra decides to forsake words entirely, opting instead to use a language more physical and familiar to her.  

She grasps either side of Asami’s face and kisses her firmly, tangles fingers through dark, soft hair.  Her lips move and coax confidently, extracting each and every one of Asami’s responses.  Nimble little bites, tip of tongue searching, exploring, circling back hungrily to savor again and again. 

Asami’s hands play at her sides, stroking and gripping, slender fingers slipping under her shirt.  Soft fingertips trace patterns on her skin.  When Korra pulls back, she sees that Asami is smiling.  Their foreheads touch and they both laugh a little, at once nervous and relieved.  They’re still new to this, this feeling that they possess bounties of time and quiet.  It’s almost decadent.

For the next few hours, they reap what the night offers them, kissing in length and pausing to talk about things both trivial and lofty.  The peace is a gift that’s not to be wasted.  It’s a chance for Korra to fill in some gaps, content to ask questions to give her a clearer sense of what she’d missed from Asami’s life while she was gone. 

When they’re both too tired to talk, Asami allows herself to be held by Korra.  In the distance, the storm churns and shudders cool and warm in a rich spectrum of fluctuating color.

Dawn arrives, peeling back the cloud cover of the storm to reveal the warm light of morning.   They decide to head back.  On the ride over, something in Korra stirs.  A kind of wholeness that feels warm and full and new.

 

\--

 

The motorcycle pulls up to Air Temple Island with a loud rumble.  It’s still early and Korra would have guessed everyone would still be sleeping, but when she and Asami walk towards Tenzin’s home, she spots Bolin, Opal, and Pema talking near the front gate.

“Hey!  You guys are up early,” Bolin says.  “I didn’t think anyone else was awake.”

Opal gives Korra a curious look.  “Did you go somewhere?”

She shifts uncomfortably, pulling her coat tighter over her pajamas.  “Um …”

“Just a brisk morning ride,” Asami says smoothly.  “Why are _you_ up?”

Bolin makes an excited sound.  “Varrick and Zhu Li are getting married!  Tomorrow!”

“What, really?”  Korra asks. 

“The ceremony is being held here,” Pema says.  “They came by to ask.  Well, demand, really, but all the same.  It’ll be a welcome distraction.”

Bolin jumps a little, his hands clasping and unclasping like an excited child. 

“We’re going to help plan – I get to officiate and read the vows and everything!”  He looks to Korra and Asami.  “Do you guys want to help with decorations?”

“No,” Korra answers quickly.  Opal giggles and Bolin whines in disappointment.

“But that’s exciting news!” she offers.  “We’re – Um, I’m going to go catch some more Zs.  Se you later.”

Korra thinks she sees Pema wink at her before heading inside the house.  When they reach the hallway that leads to her room, Asami catches her by the hand and they walk like this the rest of the way.

When they step inside, Naga greets them with head nuzzles.  Korra strips off her coat, getting ready to lie back down on the mat she’d left unrolled on the floor.

“You shouldn’t sleep on the floor,” Asami says.  Korra turns around in time to see her undo her jacket, revealing a white tank top underneath.  When she stoops down to pull off her pants, Korra blushes and turns around in a hurry.  Behind her, she hears Asami climb into bed.

“Come on.  That can’t be comfortable.”  Asami is patting the space next to her on the mattress.

Korra nods wordlessly and joins her, settling in slowly.  Still nervous, she tries, a little too hastily, to pull the heavy comforter up over her shoulders.  Asami watches her struggle for a bit, smiling at her awkwardness before helping to cover them both with the blanket.  

She’s looking at her now, head propped up on one elbow and wearing a serene expression on her face.  Korra still isn’t used to this closeness between them, has not yet acclimated to the idea that she can just look at her, really look at her for as long as she wants.  It feels like a luxury, almost, especially now with the golden morning light streaming gently into the room.  Even now, with the calm, her heart pounds wildly.

Asami reaches forward to stroke a lock of brown hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear.  She’s smiling that tiny smile again.  “Nervous?”

Korra nods.  Asami closes her eyes, then moves forward to close the very narrow gap between them.  She places the smallest of kisses on the corner of her mouth, then another, back to the center, lips brushing lips, but just barely.  A whisper more than a kiss, really.  Still, it sends forth tendrils of heat throughout her body and soon she’s aflame.

“Me too.”

This little admission reassures Korra just a bit.  Emboldened, she reaches over Asami’s shoulder to where her hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail.  She finds the elastic band and pulls gently, slides it down, loosing long, black hair slowly until it falls in a glossy curtain over her shoulders, locks unfurling across the slope of her collarbones.  Korra stares, mesmerized.

Asami bends down to kiss her and she responds in earnest, tasting and savoring the softness of her lips. 

When they finally pry themselves apart, Korra instructs her to turn around.  Asami turns to face the wall and settles down into the bed.  Korra encircles one arm around her waist, lets her wriggle back until their bodies are flush against each other.  With her other hand, she brushes away strands of hair to press a kiss to the nape of her neck.  Like the rest of her, it’s impossibly soft and warm.  

Under the blankets, Asami’s shirt has ridden up on her abdomen where Korra’s arm falls over it, revealing a strip of bare skin that Korra touches gently.  Her hand rubs light, slow circles until they both lose consciousness, surrendering easily to sleep.


	2. The Lights

Their two weeks in the Spirit World has fostered a lovely kind of familiarity between herself and Korra.  The excitable nervousness still lingers, of course, ignited by a touch here, a soft utterance there.  It still feels new, navigating this terrain of emotions and physicality, but they’re both coming to understand things a bit better, can now recognize patterns and make connections more quickly.

For instance, the tiny wrinkle that forms between Korra’s eyebrows as Asami brings her to climax.  And how, sometimes, when she’s very deep in sleep, Korra’s eyelashes will flutter and her lips will mumble nonsense words ( _another language?_ ).

She’s also happy to discover that they did not once tire of each other’s company despite having spent every minute and every hour of a whole fourteen days together.  That’s three hundred and thirty-six hours.  Twenty-thousand, one hundred and sixty minutes.

What’s even more surprising is how easily they adapt and fall into new patterns upon returning to the physical world.  A month passes by and though Asami has her hands full with blueprints and relocation, she manages to see Korra nearly every day.  Korra, who, as the Avatar, is aiding task forces left and right, in addition to meeting with ambassadors and officials to raise money to funnel into the humanitarian end of the city’s relief efforts.

How they make time, she doesn’t know.  What’s more, Korra manages to surprise her when she suggests that they spend even _more_ time together. Specifically, she’d like to go on another trip.  Before Asami has a chance to argue, Korra insists that it will be a short one. Just a couple of days, she says, and not anywhere crazy.  When Asami asks if she has a place in mind, Korra’s answer is quick: the Southern Water Tribe. She hasn’t seen her family in a while, the Avatar reasons, so how about it?

Aside from their respective pressing responsibilities, Asami doesn’t see any reason not to.  Which is laughable really, since for Asami, work has always come first, has always taken priority. But Korra has proven to be the one thing capable of disrupting her queue. 

Also, she reasons, this would be a good opportunity to overwrite old memories with new ones (her last trip to the South Pole hadn’t been all that pleasant, if she remembers correctly). 

A no pressure trip, Korra says, just a quick pop in and out. Plus, she says, there’re some things I want to show you.

When they announce their impending departure, Raiko is incredulous. How many vacations does one Avatar need? Korra’s response is rightfully combative ( _did you seriously just ask that, Mr. President; you should hear yourself talk)_ , but this time, she has the benefit of having Tenzin and Chief Beifong back her up. They reassure him that the Air Nomads and Republic City police would continue to help with whatever the city needed during these early stages of recovery. 

Lin does, at one point, pull Korra over to the side to let her know that she can’t keep covering her ass for the sake of back-to-back honeymoon excursions ( _get your head out of the clouds, kid! Sato, never thought you’d be the bad influence with this one_ ).

Predictably, Raiko is more diplomatic when dealing with her and Future Industries. Asami has good standing with the council – she and her company have done the president and his city numerous favors in the past few years, and he’s depending on her for more. Raiko emphasizes, more reminds her ( as politely as he can), that she and Future Industries have their work cut out for them.  She assures him that her absence wouldn’t hinder the new plans for the city’s currently broken infrastructure. Future Industries is already in the process of working with Baatar Sr. and Varrick-Moon Global Industries – their collaboration would speed up the process considerably.

With the last of their obligations tied up, they depart. They’ll travel by boat, one of the luxury steamships Asami is fond of (she loves her airships and the clouds, but she also loves her boats and the open water).

Asami leans on the railing of the ship as they pull away from the docks. She inhales deeply, enjoying the sea breeze and its light, salty spray and tousles her hair. The ship leaves a trail of churning white foam, teal water swirling and splashing.

Beside her, Korra gives out a gleeful cry from where she stands, her feet balanced on the middle rung of the railing.  Her mood is infectious and Asami can’t help but laugh.  The last time she’d seen Korra on a boat is an image she’d like to forget: quiet and sad in her wheelchair, unmoving and expressionless while the rest of them waved her off on the dock, shouting her name, telling her to get better soon.

The sight of a happy, shouting Korra will always be a welcome one in Asami’s eyes.

A few feet away from the ship’s rudder, Asami spots a school of jumping fish. Silver-winged and quick like knives, they break the water’s surface for fleeting seconds in the air before diving back in.  They continue like this for a while until the ship’s speed overtakes them. 

“Hey, Asami, check this out!”

Korra leans recklessly over the edge of the railing, her arms arcing gracefully with her palms flat and fingers stretched, then a sudden movement up, like a snap, fingers flicking.  Something shiny flies through the air.  She hops off the railing onto the deck and saunters over to Asami, the glinting mystery object floating in the space between her cupped palms.

It’s a piece of ice, flat and paper-thin like a sheet.  Inside of the clear slab: a brownish-pink marine kelp flower. Locked in its crystalline cage, the saltwater plant looks a bit like a fern, but with curvier tendrils, a small spindly, star-shaped blossom attached to one of the longer, vein-like stems that bends away from the center stalk.

“Isn’t it pretty?”  Korra’s grinning at her now.

Asami nods and touches the cold, glassy surface with the tip of her finger. “It’s beautiful,” she says. “… show off.” 

“You don’t have to keep it or anything,” Korra says.  She shrugs and drops her pose, releasing the suspended ice. Asami catches it before it hits the ground.

“I can press it in a book,” she says. 

“Won’t it get gross and soggy?”

“I’ll let it thaw out before I do that,” Asami says.  She sets the frozen kelp down on one of the deck tables near them. The high sun will melt it in no time.

Korra is still standing by the railing, looking thoughtfully out into the distance at the sea or sky, she can’t tell.  Asami joins her and asks if she’s excited to see her family, to which Korra nods yes.  A bit of apprehension settles in the air between them and Korra is first to break the silence, telling her that she knows it’s probably too early to officially introduce Asami to her parents (she stumbles, adorably, over the word _girlfriend_ ).

Is that okay, Korra asks, they like her anyway and they can tell them soon, maybe the next time they visit?  Asami tells her it’s fine, that she doesn’t mind, which is all true. She thinks to herself, however, that there’s no fooling parents, especially ones like Senna and Tonraq. The idea of a “next time” also makes her smile in spite of herself.

Korra grabs her hand. 

“They’re your family, too, you know.” 

Try as she might, she can’t stop the hot sting of tears from gathering at the corners of her eyes.  When she raises a wrist to wipe away at them, she feels a soft weight against her back. Korra’s arms are around her waist, enveloping her in a hug.

“No crying allowed,” Korra murmurs into her ear.  “Enough saltwater out here as it is.”

Asami chuckles and leans back into her grasp.

 

\--

  

The trip from Republic City to the South Pole takes about half a day, and even if Asami hadn’t booked a luxury cabin, there would still be plenty to do. But she has booked a luxury cabin, the best one on the ocean liner, in fact.  The perks are numerous.

Their suite is outfitted with the most recent phonograph (which means lots of goofy dancing and even more Korra jumping on the bed). Special VIP service is available at the ring of a bell (which means quality meals carted in and out whenever they feel like it). They have access to a huge, private bathroom complete with a large tub (which means a shared bath and plenty of fooling around in steam and water). 

The most stunning part of their cabin is the view: ceiling-to-floor glass windows line the semi-circle shape of the room and an enormous, fluffy bed sits at the center, offering a full, panoramic view of the open sea. Provided with this epic landscape of water and sky, it’s only natural that she and Korra end up wiling away most of their hours exploring each other’s bodies in a tangle of arms and legs.

It’s quite an experience, Asami thinks, to indulge in soft skin and salt sweat while the choppy waves crest and break all around them. As she lavishes brown shoulders and strong legs with teasing lips and curious hands, she tells Korra it’s like being inside one of those bottles tossed to sea.  _What’s the message_ , Korra wonders out loud.  Asami extracts a moan from her, then another until she gets the picture.

Later that night, Asami dreams of water and Korra.  They’re sprinting across the ocean, chasing each other with their feet splashing effortlessly on the water’s surface, never sinking. Korra’s outrunning her, but Asami catches up eventually and jumps onto her back.  Then, using an ingenious combination of air and waterbending, Korra propels them forward, jetting ahead with all the speed and force of her favorite racecar.

When she wakes up, Asami has an idea for a new type of boat. She’ll design it to be small and fast, of course, and easy for a single person to steer.  Sort of like a scooter, but for made for water.

The steamship reaches the Southern Water Tribe early in the morning. Korra’s parents greet them at the dock and Asami learns firsthand that the Water Tribe chief hugs as hard as his daughter.

Throughout the day, it occurs to Asami that their ruse may not work. She and Korra do not act like friends. Overt shows of affection are missing from their interactions, but there are other things to go on. How they address one another, how one reacts to the other.  A subtle lean here, soft brushing of shoulders there.  It’s the kind of language she became attuned to back when chemistry first began to develop between them.  Years ago, long before they made their feelings known.  She wonders if this is obvious to Korra’s parents or even Korra herself. 

The ruse is up when Korra slips up during dinner. 

Asami is recounting a funny incident that happened in the Spirit World (a mischievous spirit had dyed Korra’s hair and eyebrows purple to get her attention), causing everyone at the table to break into boisterous, hearty laughter. When the laughter finally winds down, Korra turns to Asami and pecks her lightly on the cheek.

Realizing what she’s done, Korra freezes, a comically mortified expression on her face.  Asami would laugh at her if she didn’t feel so anxious herself.  Really, she has no idea why she’s nervous.  Probably because Korra is.  That and despite all his warmth, Tonraq still cuts an impressive figure.

Senna and Tonraq make eye contact, communicating silently the way most lifelong couples often do.  Finally, after a long, painfully drawn-out moment, Senna turns to her daughter and says, “Korra, you need to relax.”

Korra just stares with that helpless, panicked look on her face. “… okay?”

“We may be far away from Republic City, but we don’t live in a tunnel, sweetie,” Senna says.

“We _are_ your parents,” Tonraq adds. “And of course you’re family here, Asami.”

Asami doesn’t know what to say except “ _thank you._ ”

“Honestly, Korra, you talk about her nonstop whenever we manage to get you on the phone, so I suspected as much,” Senna says.  She smiles at Asami.  “You’re the only person she’s doesn’t complain about, by the way.”

“Mom!” Korra is blushing furiously.

Senna continues to torment her daughter.  “She’s a handful, this one.  I always said that if she ever manages to find someone who can keep up with her, she’d better hang on tight. ”

“Please, Mom …” Korra groans.  Asami laughs and relief washes over her.

“What are you planning on doing while you’re here?”  Tonraq asks.  “Are you going to take Asami sledding?  Fishing, maybe?”

“We’re not going to go fishing, Dad, I know that much.  I can’t think of anything more boring,” Korra says.

“Says you,” Tonraq retorts.

“I like fishing,” Asami says.

Korra perks up.  “You do?”

“Sure. I haven’t done it a lot, but I’ve gone deep sea fishing on my father’s boat here and there.”

Asami leaves out the part about not having touched a fishing rod since her father fell victim to his ideology years ago.  She also doesn’t mention the fact that his boat has been rusting and gathering dust in their garage because she can’t bear to even look at it now.

“Maybe you can come ice fishing with me the next time you visit,” Tonraq says, jarring her out of her thoughts.

“Dad, ice fishing is the _worst_ kind of fishing,” Korra cuts in.  She turns to Asami.  “Seriously, you just sit there, in a hut, in the cold, with a line and that’s it.”

“Hey, I invited Asami, not you,” Tonraq says, chuckling. “Seems like she, unlike some people, has the patience to appreciate the finer things in life.”

Korra pouts.  “I never said I wanted to go …”

They all laugh at her expense and the mood feels lighter now that their earlier anxiety has been put to rest.  To her surprise, Senna breaks out a bottle of rice malt which they all partake in (though Tonraq pretends to deny Korra a glass for being a year younger than Asami).  Tonraq later tells her in a conspiratorial voice that ice fishing is just an excuse to drink and bond with friends and family.  She laughs at this bit of information, saying she’d guessed as much.

Conversation is lively and the food and drink, comforting.  Asami comes to understand more clearly just how Senna and Tonraq fit into the bigger picture that is Korra.  Both parents are models of strength, exuding the unshakeable resolve and quiet sense of principle that she’s come to associate deeply with their daughter. 

Traces of Korra can be found easily in her family: Senna is generous with affection and Tonraq’s laughter, unbridled with cheer.  Asami watches them all and wonders if this is a water tribe thing.

They’re also defined by the kind of refreshing openness that Asami herself still isn’t used to dealing with.  When she first met Korra, she had been taken aback by the rawness of her emotions worn plainly on her face and reflected in her body language without an ounce of shame. Feelings wielded as passionately as the four elements she was capable of bending.

Asami’s own guardedness is practiced skill.  A measure of protection she’s carefully honed since childhood. Around Korra, all that melts away.

As the evening wears on, Asami starts to feel the stirrings of something – sentimentality, maybe.  Or maybe, just maybe, if she allows herself this thought, it’s as Korra had said: _they’re your family, too._

When dinner is over, Asami follows Korra to her bedroom, more than ready to retire after the nonstop stimulation from their dinner.

“I told you they like you,” Korra tells her.  “A whole lot more than Mako, too.  I wonder if my dad is relieved somehow.”

Asami just laughs and jabs a finger in Korra’s side, one of her ticklish spots. Korra tackles her onto the bed, and they fall back in a tumble.                       

Later, they lay in bed together, talking and touching mostly. Korra tells her stories from her childhood: how she found Naga (a runt, alone and hungry by the fishmonger’s stand), the time she’d accidentally firebent at her parents (nearly singed her father’s eyebrows and beard off), her mother-daughter spiritwalking trip with Senna (they’d met a bonafide kitsune, beautiful and deceitful), meeting Katara for the first time (she’d recognized her immediately, speaking her name even before she’d heard it).

As Asami listens, she tries to commit each detail to memory so she can return to it later.  Privately, she thinks back to one of her own memories.  Breakfast one sunny morning at her family’s estate when she was still very young and her mother was still alive.  Sliding the morning’s newspaper over to Asami, her mother had pointed to a black and white photograph of a little girl.  _That’s the new avatar, honey_ , she’d said to her. _She’s around your age._

This is a memory Asami has, until recently, kept locked away even from herself, a little thing unearthed unexpectedly, coaxed to the surface, perhaps, by the growing closeness between herself and the Avatar.   It is a special thing, precious and shiny like a finely polished opal – something small and luminescent she now holds close to the deepest chamber of her heart. 

This memory should be saved for later, she decides, can only be revealed at the right time.

They sleep easily that night, for the South Pole is considerably quieter than Republic City, and much colder.  Korra’s bed is warm and inviting, a safe cocoon against the freezing elements outside.

 

\--

 

It’s still dark when Asami is shaken awake.  Korra face hovers above her own, a grin wide on her face.

“What … ?”

“Up! There’s something I want to show you,” she says excitedly.

Asami groans and rubs her eyes.  “What time is it?”

“Almost dawn.  Come on, get your clothes – we’re going to miss it!”

Asami considers herself to be somewhat of a morning person, but this is ridiculous.  A bit of dread sets in when she sees that Korra is fully dressed in her trademark blue winter gear.

“Are we going somewhere?”

Korra throws off the covers and pulls Asami to her feet and wraps an absurdly long woolen scarf around her neck.  “Yep,” she answers all too cheerfully, guiding each of Asami’s arms through the sleeves of heavy, fur-lined parka she must have pulled from her closet. With a rough yank, Korra pulls the hood over her head and leads her to a pair of snow boots near the door.

It’s hard to walk, she’s bundled up so tight.  She must look ridiculous right now, probably like an overstuffed dumpling.  Regardless, Asami slips her feet through a pair of snow boots without complaint, giggling sleepily when Korra bends over to lace them up. 

Korra then grabs either side of Asami’s hood, bringing her in close to her face. She plants kisses all over: quick ones on each cheek, one soft on the forehead, small and loud on the tip of her nose, then one last one that lingers softly on her lips.

“Awake now?”

“Mmhmm,” Asami hums dreamily. 

“Good.”

Then Asami is promptly shoved out the door, mid-yawn.

Everything that follows is a blur.  Suddenly, they’re riding Naga at full speed through an expansive field of snow and all Asami can do is hang onto Korra for dear life.  The sky is a murky, ghostly blue.  Sunrise will be coming soon.

She can barely make out all the scenery they blaze past, but feels the altitude climb.  As Naga carries them up an incline, the temperature drops even further.  Shivering in her coat, Asami looks up at the sky: it’s even easier to see the southern spirit lights from here.  Ribbons of light undulate overhead like snakes, leaving ghostly streaks of color that feather and dissipate into the blue of the sky.

Naga comes to a halt when they reach a snowy outcropping.  It leads to precipice that hangs high over the coast. Korra leaps off and offers a hand to Asami, helping her down from the polar dog bear’s back. Korra is grinning from ear to ear as she guides her closer to the cliff, hand still firmly gripped in hers.

She points to faint line that separates sea from sky. “The sun’s about to come up. Just watch.”

Even now, the sight is extraordinary: the glassy black surface of the ocean reflects the southern lights almost perfectly.  When the waves lap, the mirrored aurorae tremble just slightly, appearing livelier than their real counterparts.

Then, dawn begins to break.  Golden light bleeds up from horizon, and the colors of the southern lights shift in tone just slightly.  Marine green morphs to the color of grass. Cobalt blue takes the hue of vine green. Silk purple warms to the color of blood.  Inferno red softens to an orange wash.  Tangerine shimmers golden.  And then, the faintest lights fade into the sky, soaked in by the sun’s early rays.  

Korra lets out a small shout.  “Asami, look! Look over there at the top of the sun.”

So she does.  Strangely enough, a halo of unearthly green emerges at the sun’s northernmost curve. At first, Asami thinks it’s a trick of the eye, perhaps a result of her vision adjusting to this change in light and color.  But it stays, continues to ripple as the sun emerges slowly from its sea bed.

Entranced, she thinks of emeralds, thinks of jade, thinks of crystal catacombs … but none of these things properly capture this particular shade of green. And then, it’s gone.

“Did you see it?”

“The green light?  Yeah,” she whispers. “And I thought you’d brought me here to see the spirit lights.”

“Well, yeah, mostly.  That last part was kind of a fluke,” Korra says, rubbing her arm.  “I was hoping we’d get to see it.  Got lucky, I guess.”

Korra looks thoughtful for a moment and Asami takes the opportunity to lock her in her arms.  She rests her chin on Korra’s shoulder, presses her cheek to her neck, and waits for her to speak.

“I used to hate the lights, you know,” she begins softly. “You can see them from any given point in town.  Sometimes, I’d wheel myself out onto my balcony at night to watch them.  Then, I just stopped because I couldn’t stand to look at them anymore.” 

“Why?”

Korra sighs.  “I guess they just reminded me of what I used to be capable of.  Back then, I couldn’t even walk, and … seeing them made me kind of sick.”

Asami just holds her tighter, feels Korra lean back.

“Anyway, then I couldn’t sleep one night – this is right when I finally was able to walk, by the way – I came out here and the sun started to come up. Then things just started to feel different, like they’d shifted somehow.”

She pauses, then lets out a little huff.   “I’m not sure how to explain it, really.”

“You’re explaining it fine,” Asami says.  “I know what you mean.  Sometimes, the light just changes and then everything looks like how it’s always meant to be.”

“Yeah. Listen, Asami …”

“Hmm?”

“I wanted to write you more, you know, when I was away. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

Korra wiggles a little and Asami loosens her grip.

“That’s okay …” she starts to say.

“No, really, I need you to know.  I mean, I don’t regret doing things on my own – I needed that, needed to be alone – but there was always a part of me that wanted you at my side.”

She hesitates.  “I really did think about you a lot.  I realized things are … easier when you’re around.  I figured that out when everything got so hard.”

“Yeah?” Korra is struggling, but Asami is patient.  She can tell she needs to put whatever she’s thinking into words her own way, so she listens.

“It was other stuff, too.  Like whenever I saw anything new or special, you were the first person I wanted to share that with.  It’s why I wanted to come here with you, so I could show you …”

Asami barely gets to thank her when Korra continues, the words seemingly spilling out of her.

“And when I finally came back, I was so nervous about seeing you again. Knowing all that, I mean.”

Korra turns around to face her.  “Honestly, I was kind of terrified that I’d come back and things wouldn’t be the same and everyone would be different and I wouldn’t have a place there anymore … Which is silly, I know.  But mostly I was scared that I’d be too late.  I mean, three years is a really long time …”

She’s starting to sound frantic, so Asami decides to talk. “Things weren’t the same without you. And we have time now, okay?”

“Ah, speaking of time, do you want to get a closer look before it’s too late?”

Asami knows she’s changing the subject.  The conversation doesn’t feel quite resolved as it stands, but she figures it’ll circle back around given enough time.

“What do you mean?  Closer look at what?” The sun has fully arrived now; dawn has long since taken its leave.  She’s also not sure how much more sublime beauty she can take.

“Oh, I guess it’s too late.  But we can check things out anyhow.”  Korra takes both of Asami’s hands and pulls them over her shoulders. “Here, stand on my feet.”

“What? Why?”

“Shh. Just trust me.” Asami feels herself being pulled closer to Korra, so she tentatively places each foot over Korra’s, trying to balance her weight somehow as to not crush her toes.

“Don’t worry, my boots are thick.  I can’t feel anything.  Plus, you’re light as hell.”

“Um, okay.”  She looks down at Korra. The extra inch gained from stepping on her girlfriend’s feet means she’s now a good head taller than her.

Korra grins.  A goofy, lop-sided smile. “You’re tall.”

Asami raises an eyebrow.  “Yup.”

“Cool.” Korra removes her hands from Asami’s waist, holds each arm at a sharp angle.  “Hang on tight.”

Before Asami has a chance to ask why, they throttle up towards the sky at an alarming speed.  A powerful tornado pushes them up into the clouds and Asami is screaming all the way. This terrifying feat of airbending forces her heart up to her throat and she claws frantically at Korra’s back, still shouting.  She can hear Korra laughing like the jerk that she is.

Then, it stops, and Asami half-expects them to careen towards the ground. They don’t.  It feels a little like when an elevator stops abruptly once it’s reached the highest floor.  She’s still clinging to Korra, eyes shut and panting for air now that the screaming is out of her system.

“Asami! You’re hanging on too tight, I can barely breathe!”

There’s no way she’s letting go.

“Seriously, you can let go a little!  You won’t fall. I’ve bent enough air to support us.”

When she feels a light bouncing sensation under her feet, Asami opens her eyes. It’s like standing on a buoyant platform.  It’s then that she finally notices the magnificent sight around them: they’re yards above an entire strata of clouds and fog, the sun blinding and huge behind Korra’s head.

The blanket of clouds under their feet stretches out for what seems like miles.  If Asami didn’t know better, she’d think she could walk across them.  It looks like snow, virginal, untread, what the tundra must have looked like before humans discovered it.  She can't stop staring, her eyes finding new, beautiful things every second, colors changing all too quickly.  The field of vapor shimmers gold and pink and the faintest shade of greyish blue.  A chill runs through her: her hood’s been blown back and the cold bites at her ears and nose.

“Your airships got nothing on me,” Korra says.  She’s beaming and her eyes have never looked brighter.

“How … high are we?”  The words come out of her mouth cold and crisp, forming into little puffs of white.

Korra shrugs, still smiling. The sun’s rays make her eyes look like chips of lapis, reflecting flecks of gold deep within the blue.  Asami can’t stop staring. 

“Korra, this is amazing.”

“Asami …” Korra says, her voice suddenly serious and quiet. “What I said earlier – was that okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“About needing you.  That I need you. Is that something …” her voice trails off.

For a moment, it seems absurd to Asami, hearing her say these words. That the person the world needs the most would have such trouble admitting that she needs another. It is this absurdity that gets to the heart of who Korra is, however, as the Avatar, as a symbol, as the bridge between two worlds, as a very human girl, as Korra.  But what makes this scenario so unbelievable, she thinks, is that Korra would even need to ask.

Asami feels a familiar pang of guilt, then, remembering how she came to her own conclusion. 

This is what she wants to tell her:

_I watched you almost die, believed you were dead.  Your eyes glowing white and defiant in the face of forces that tried to take you away. Take you away from the world. Take you away from me. And when your eyelids fluttered shut, I felt my own sorrow eclipse the world’s.  It wasn’t that I was so important, but that you were so important to me. That’s when I knew, during this moment of selfishness.  Laying in your father’s arms, you took what I thought would be your last breath and I knew that I loved you.  I was selfish; I’d thought you to be invincible.  I hated that I only saw love for what it really was as you faded before my eyes. But then you breathed again. And I could breathe again. This changed nothing: I loved you then and I’ve loved you ever since._

But these words never make it out.  The morning light is powerful and the air, too stripped and real and cold. All is golden and Korra is warm in her arms with her eyes so blue and alive.  So she tries to tell her silently, tries to communicate this heavy sentiment she’s carried with her for three years, will continue to carry for the foreseeable future.

Something inside her swells and she is crying again.  This plane they’re floating in, this place Korra has brought them to, feels like a space of their own making.  Here, they’re truly alone, the hard and heavy world far below them, a lifetime away.

And so it feels right to say, even through tears, simply: _I love you._

When she thinks she hears an echo, Asami smiles.  Korra kisses her.

The stakes have always been high, she knows this much. But everything seems okay for a moment. The heaviest clouds will always part and the rough waters eventually still.  The sun will always come out again, without fail, every day – Asami knows this to be a fact. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit a block with Learning Curve, wrote this instead. If you're curious, look up "catatumbo lightning" and "green flash at sunrise." These are real phenomena in our world.


End file.
